Gabriel’s Blog From Senegal….A 2010 Walking Tree Destination

Na ngeen def (hello in Wolof),

I am writing this email from Joal, a small fishing village on
the Pacific coast of Senegal, about 70km south of Dakar, the capitol.
We (the Walking Tree guys) are about 10 days into our month-long West
African adventure and it is shaping up to be a good one.

We spent four days in Dakar upon on arrival and it was immediately
clear that Senegal is vastly different from anything I previously
knew.  Until yesterday, the 95% of the population that is Muslim was
acknowledging Ramadan.   In additional to five daily prayers, almost
everyone was abstaining from food or drink from sunup to sundown (we
tried this one day and by 4pm were brain-dead and bickering like
little boys).  Despite their fatigue, the Senegalese have been some of
the friendliest people I have encountered.  From little boys playing
soccer, to women selling amazing French bread, to Gabriel (pronounced
Jabril), our fantastically named French Teacher to Jean, the guy
working at our first hotel who took us out for a night on the town and
later invited us to have dinner with his family, people here have
welcomed us with wide grins, warm handshakes and patient conversation.
Like other developing countries, life here flourishes on the streets.
People sell everything from canned meat to mosquito zappers to the
legions of impossibly full, exhaust-spewing busses, cars, horse
carriages (different kind of exhaust) and scooters stuck in congested
highway traffic, so you can imagine what markets and sidewalks are
like. Oh, and it’s hot, very hot.

Our time here is twofold: we are traveling the country to get a feel
for the land and make contacts for a future Walking Tree program, and
to get organized for the business year that lies ahead.  Much of our
days in Dakar were spent exploring the city and cooped up in our hotel
revamping our brochure etc.  Our first night, we had drinks with a
handful of Peace Corps volunteers and, despite warnings that Ramadan
was taming the otherwise thriving nightlife in Dakar, went out in
search of action.  Paul found it in the form of a small electric fire
that broke out shortly after entering a sparsely populated bar.  No
one was injured, but it was proof that we weren’t in Kansas anymore.

Our next destination was St. Louis, the first French settlement in
Africa.  It is a small island in the Senegal River, in northern
Senegal.  The four-hour journey took us eight.  We spent the time
gazing through broken windows as the green landscape became
progressively more arid and marveling as our driver, a true
renaissance man, fixed a flat tire, electric problem and broken
radiator, serenaded us with his booming singing voice and even stopped
to feed us.  St. Louis reminded me a bit of a French version of
Havana: amazing colonial architecture that generally hasn’t seen
paint, construction or improvement since first being constructed.  The
effect is surprisingly aesthetic. We took two days of French class,
explored dusty side streets and made time for the occasional bottle of
reasonably good French wine. Who would have thought that 99 in French
is 4 x 20 + 19?!?!

Yesterday we toured Gore, an island off the coast of Dakar, which was
the capitol of the West African slave trade.  The brilliant pastel
buildings and refreshing sea breeze could almost leave you forgetting
the island’s dark past, but touring a “holding house” gave insight in
to the brutality that took place.  We were pleased to see a large
monument atop the island presented to Senegal by none other than Bill
Clinton.

Because the moon was visible, last night was the start of Eid, the
celebration signaling the end of Ramadan.   We thought most of the
action was to take place today and decided to take a night taxi to
Toubab Dialoa and enjoy the festivities here.  What we learned
instead, or think we learned, is that the celebration started last
night.   The 60km voyage was the ride of a lifetime.  We left Gore,
got into a taxi at 9pm and almost immediately hit choking traffic.
The highway was particularly full with overcrowded buses and along the
highway were stalls, shops and stands overflowing with people.  Our
driver did his best to find a shortcut and instead wove through
neighborhoods where we were literally swallowed up by the masses of
brightly dressed, spirited people taking to the streets.  It sensory
overload.  It seemed like a dream as hours passed in the surreal
labyrinth of alleyways and dirt roads. The most vivid images were of
goats being slaughtered, busy food stalls, cars getting stuck in deep,
muddy pools (our driver got us stuck in an uncovered part of the sewer
until a few young Senegalese men literally picked the car up), and the
smiles of innumerable youth enjoying the night.

Tomorrow morning we are off to a game park hoping to see rhino,
giraffe, gazelles and more. We plan to follow the coast south, passing
through The Gambia and take a ferry back to Dakar before our departure
on October 21st.  It has been a great adventure so far and our hopes
are high for it to continue and hopefully be a good place to bring
students on service learning programs in a couple years.

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